Chapter Text
Felix
Sometimes, if Felix really focuses, he thinks that he can still smell the salty ocean air of Sydney and feel the beating, hot sun on his skin.
His life, admittedly, hasn’t been horrible; he’s one of the lucky ones in the system, which is telling because it’s not as if his life has been amazing either. When he’d been eight years old, he was the only survivor of a crash that killed both of his parents.
It was raining. That’s one of the only things Felix lets himself remember—nowadays, whenever raindrops hit the windows and thunder crackles above, it’s like a cruel reminder of what could have been. It had been raining, and they were going over a bridge, and the road had gotten too slick…
The only other thing Felix lets himself remember is the warmth of the blanket provided to him by EMTS as he shivered in the back of the ambulance, watching as the rain let up and all sorts of first responders surrounded them. He’d been bleeding from his head, warm, coppery blood dripping down from the cut as he simply watched his parents be pulled out from the totaled vehicles—a doctor tried to distract him, asking him to just focus on her.
He’d looked past her attempts and stared behind her instead, where broken glass laid across the roads and a line of traffic followed behind it. He didn’t understand what happened back then and was simply confused as to why his parents were being put in bags. His therapist says he was in shock, or maybe it had been childish imagination that his parents could’ve possibly survived such a wreck.
One of the only thoughts in his mind at that moment had been wow, that’s a lot of traffic. Surely people must be annoyed. He thought back to whenever his parents were stuck in traffic and how they complained and sighed and rolled their eyes—later, they’d say, Oh, there had been a wreck, then moved past it without another thought.
Felix, on the other hand, would linger on that idea. Somebody had gotten into an accident which blocked the flow of traffic… and, yet, people were annoyed at that? Couldn’t they focus on the person who got hurt instead?
His mother had always told him he was empathetic, and she praised the fact, saying he was so kind and loving. He thought that was a good quality, when in reality, it only made him feel like an outsider; he put others before himself and couldn’t function knowing something was wrong, and everyone just asked him to get over it.
This time around, nobody asked him to get over it. Instead, they stared at him with the empathetic eyes they mocked him for having before, giving condolences and flowers then moving on the very next day—after all, their job was over. They felt bad for five minutes only because they had to then went back to their own lives.
Felix didn’t move on. He couldn’t move on. Grief gets easier, it shrinks and eventually dulls, but that pain he feels in his heart seeing parents with his children won’t ever subside; he only got eight years, and that couldn’t possibly be enough.
His grief lives everywhere. It lives in the rain he refuses to listen to that falls unapologetically; it lives in the bridges over rocking, blue water that he makes him take the long route just to avoid it; it lives every time he slips into the back, left seat of a car because he’d crashed while sitting in the right.
His therapist tells him that it’s okay to be superstitious and cautious, but it isn’t healthy to flat out avoid all these things just because it brings up bad memories; he has to fight his battles and his fears and overcome them, but he doesn’t want to overcome them. If he overcomes them, then he loses the only thing tying him back to six years ago on that godforsaken bridge, and that’s the last memory he’ll ever have of his parents—he can’t possibly lose that just for the sake of making his life easier.
At nine years old, he moved to America. At first, back in Sydney, he’d stayed with his grandmother. Then, just in a year, she died of a stroke. It’s as if he brings death and pain wherever he stands. After she died, the last of his relatives lived in New York City. He’d only been once when he was a young child because his aunt and uncle had a baby.
Now, he had to live with them. His younger cousin at this point was four, and she was a darling girl with dark, brown pigtails who was all-American in a way that made Felix question how they could possibly be related. America was strange. Felix wasn’t accustomed to it whatsoever, and his accent always got him funny looks from bystanders.
It was okay at first. Even back then, Felix could tell that they only took him in because they felt obligated to, but at first, they were nice and gentle and treated him normally. They owned a bakery and the family lived above it, and his uncle taught Felix to bake so he could help around.
As time went on, it started to go downhill. Not only the way they treated him, but all the comments about his body and how worthless he is and how he’s the reason his parents had gotten distracted and died; he blocked it out, but then, one day, he’d looked in the mirror and decided they were right.
After multiple mishaps with his aunt and uncle, Felix was, inevitably, taken away from them; he only hopes his younger cousin is doing alright, but he hasn’t reached out in a while. He’s only been in the system for the past year, and it actually hasn’t been so horrible.
His first placement was with this sweet lady in her thirties. It was just Felix in that house, and it was quiet and alright. She never spoke much, but she taught him how to make sourdough bread and introduced him to reading for pleasure, so he has some things to owe to her. The only reason he got moved was because she had to move for work, but he stayed with her for nearly an entire year of his life.
Now, he’s in his second placement. Maybe his luck is alright, or maybe the universe is finally repaying him for how it treated him, but his new parents are shockingly nice as well. After hearing so many horror stories about the system, he’d expected it to be much worse; it’s unfair to think like that, because he knows very well that other kids like him have gone through much more, but so far, he hasn’t experienced any of that.
Minho and Chan are just… normal people. Felix honestly still can’t tell if they’re married or just best friends. Neither of them wear rings and they also sleep in separate rooms and there’s also no wedding photos around the house, so they’re probably just friends, but he’s read enough romances and watched enough movies to recognize that look dancing in their gazes whenever they catch each others’ eyes. Nobody looks at a friend like that.
Or maybe he just has no experience in love and is simply trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head.
This placement has been fine. In a lot of ways, Minho and Chan actually seem surprised by him. Perhaps they expected for him to be more difficult, but it’s really just not in his nature. Both of his parents had been absolute angels, and he supposes he must’ve inherited that.
He can’t stand the thought of being disrespectful, or talking back, or just being a nuance in general; he’s already inconveniencing them enough by being in their space, so he might as well just try to fade into the distance and leave them alone.
Chan is a mathematician. Minho is an English teacher. Really, he didn’t realize how helpful that’d be until he started school and needed help with his assignments. Well, he’s always been skilled in English class—Felix absolutely adores creatively writing, and there’s always ideas turning in his head.
Felix would love to be a published author once he grows up, but he doesn’t try to get his hopes up. He thinks he could do it, and he’s written a plethora of stories—mostly dumb drabbles that he gives up easily or the occasional fanfiction he writes just to get it out of his system—but he can never commit to anything. He always gets bored eventually.
Still, though, characters and storylines and plots live in his mind like a never ending carousel ride he can’t get off of. It’s a nice distraction from the real world, so he’s never minded it.
Overall, the past month has been a pretty good experience. It’s a shame school started, though. He never really minded school and has always told himself to be grateful that he has the privilege of going, anyway, but it’s not as if he loves it. Going through classes daily is exhausting.
At least he’s in clubs. He’s always loved to join theater—even though that particular hobby has gotten him enough laughs over the years, especially in middle school. Playing a part on stage is much easier than being himself. The community is welcoming enough, all of them having a degree of weirdness to them that’s oddly familiar, and there’s nothing quite like the high of being on stage.
He’s even gotten the lead this year! He was shocked at that, since he’s just a sophomore—and a new student, nonetheless. Priority usually goes to seniors or to recurring actors—but by no means is he complaining. It’s an adaptation of Clue, and Felix is playing Wadsworth. He’s never seen the play, admittedly, so he still has to watch it to get a feel.
He tried his best to keep busy so he doesn’t have any time to tend to himself. The easiest way to do that, he’s found over the years, is throwing himself in clubs, volunteering, reading, writing, walking… Anything to not have to be stuck with his thoughts. There’s nothing he hates more than silence.
The real issue of the household is Jisung. He was told there was another boy in the house who was his age and Felix had honestly been excited. Of course, he grew up with his cousin, but she was half his age, and in his last placement, it was just him. He never really had any siblings, especially not one his age.
Jisung, however, seemed much less enthusiastic about the idea. Felix didn’t even directly speak to him until the fourth day of his placement! Felix wondered what his issue was. Obviously, Jisung had been through something, but Felix had thought he seemed nothing but welcoming, so then why doesn’t Jisung want anything to do with him?
Admittedly, it’s chipping at Felix to know that Jisung seems so adamant about avoiding him.
Felix had dealt with plenty of boys who looked like Jisung. Dark hair, intimidating piercings, a constant frown. Most times, they’re assholes, but Jisung doesn’t seem too mean at all. Felix has seen him at school with classmates, a gummy smile on his lips and his eyes crinkled up in happiness, or his dramatic gesturing whenever he recounts a story to Minho and Chan.
The minute he’s home—or, more accurately, whenever he notices Felix is around—that smile wipes off and he gets much more quiet. Felix can’t decide if he’s simply reserved or if he just hates Felix. Minho has reassured Felix that it’s nothing personal, and that Jisung has a tough shell that will only come down on his own terms, but still. What does Felix have to do to get Jisung to stop hating him?
Despite not having spoken to him much, Felix has noticed a few things about Jisung. He’s always playing music—either the guitar, piano, or what Felix thinks is a flute—and is shockingly talented at it; Felix has noticed the music teachers at their school are always on Jisung’s ass, but whenever Felix tried to ask, Jisung just shrugged and said it was nothing.
He’s also always watching Felix with an expression that makes him want to bristle. Something deep lies in Jisung’s eyes, like he’s trying to study Felix, and Felix wants no more than to be left alone to tend to himself.
But, although Jisung tries to keep up that moody front, Felix thinks that he’s seen some of the cracks. Minho and Chan have cats—these three little babies who Felix is kind of obsessed with—and, when nobody is looking, Felix has seen Jisung tending to them. He never gets too close, but he takes care of them.
On the sidewalk, Felix lets out a hefty breath and pauses his walking, something in his head feeling as if it’s throbbing. It’s the beginning of September, which not only means the sun is relentless with its shining, but also that Felix’s fifteenth birthday is officially coming up. He hasn’t started to study for his permit test, and he doesn’t really know if he feels like it, either.
He’s at a park now and leans against one of the picnic tables, taking out his phone. He opens his health app and frowns at the number of steps he’s taken today—no way it's only sixteen thousand? Along with the plentiful amount he got at school today, he’s been walking for over two hours at this point.
Something deep and ugly settles in his chest as discomfort creeps up his spine. Just as he’s about to turn his music back on, a message from Jisung comes through. He doesn’t text Felix at all, really, only time from time to say one word messages like Dinner or Go see Soonie
Jisung
Where are you?
Felix
Walking
Jisung
Minho says come home
Felix
Why
Jisung
Because it’s almost eight???
He’s mad that you didn’t come home
Felix
I had rehearsal
Jisung
Like two hours ago…
Just listen and come home oml
Felix rolls his eyes and sighs, not responding to the last text. Who cares if it’s getting late? At rehearsal today, he had a whole cookie because everyone else did and they all stared at him with curiosity when he initially declined. Who the fuck knows what was in it?
And, plus, Felix just enjoys walking. Dizziness blurs his vision as he gets back into his steps and starts the route home, and he tries to ignore how his chest feels tight with nerves. After rehearsal, he’d immediately gone on the walk, and sure he didn’t really check up with Minho or Chan or tell anybody, but does he have to? Is it any of their business?
The walk home is about half an hour—he hadn’t intended to walk that far, but it’s easy to go astray on the streets of New York—and by the time he goes up the driveway, it’s dark outside. The beautiful sunset which had been painting the sky in an array of hues is long gone, and when he steps inside, everyone turns their heads to look at him.
Jisung holds his gaze, his eyes narrowed for a brief moment before turning back to his journal. Minho and Chan, however, look less than pleased that he got home so late.
“You missed dinner,” Minho informs him.
“...Then I’ll go eat,” Felix offers with a small, dismissive shrug. Neither of them say anything as he goes to the kitchen, and, just to appease them, he opens up the fridge to take out the portion they set aside for him. He really just stares at it while it’s still wrapped in siran, but when he hears footsteps entering the kitchen, he forces himself to unwrap it and stick it into the microwave.
The first time Felix starved himself, it was euphoric. The dizziness that spiraled through him from the ground up and settled in between his bones, a buzzing that eventually dulled and became easier to ignore, never made him feel so alive; for once, in his life, he had control over something.
Now, it doesn’t feel magical at all. Now, it feels tiring, like something he can’t get rid up but will live vicariously through him forever. People say that it gets better, and the lady he used to see for therapy always told him that it would, but how can it? He can’t go one minute of the day without thinking about food, and people just expect that to disappear?
Deep down, he knows that if he truly did try to recover, he might have a shot. But just like with everything else in his life, he’s too exhausted to even try. He’s attempted before, but it never lasted for long and only made him feel like shit in the end.
Though, as much as it kills him, both figuratively and literally, at least it’s something that’s his. It’s constant and won’t leave. It’s familiar and will always be there with wide, open arms, ready for him even when he knows that it’s wrong.
As the dish spins in circles, Felix watches it mindlessly and hopes it’ll disappear. Chan comes up next to him, his presence loud and intruding, then leans next to him. When there’s another thirty seconds left, Chan leans down next to him, eyes knowing and concerned. “Are you okay?” He whispers.
Felix stares ahead. “I’m great,” he says without changing his expression. Semi true. He, physically, feels fine, and today was okay, but as he watches the microwave glow with heat, his stomach twists in his stomach.
“Next time, don’t get home so late,” Chan instructs, his voice void of anger. If there’s one thing Felix appreciates about Chan, it’s that he’s much more gentle than Minho is. Minho is, obviously, nice. There’s nothing inherently bad about being more stern, and maybe he’s just the bad cop in this situation, but Felix has found himself gravitating towards Chan this entire time.
Perhaps it's the cultural link between them—Chan, too, grew up in Sydney, and something about a familiar accent in the house makes everything seem more warm and inviting—or just his gentle nature, but there’s something about him that makes Felix want to stick next to him forever.
He’s glad he isn’t being scolded, unlike what Jisung said—that Minho is mad, and maybe he is, but if he has been angry at all over this entire placement, then he hasn’t shown it once—so he just nods as the beeping from the microwave interrupts them. “‘Kay. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just warn us next time. It’s gonna get dark sooner, and if we don’t know where you are, then we’ll get worried,” Chan explains, his voice low and tired, and he gestures with his hands for emphasis. Felix smiles and huffs out a laugh before getting his food, willing for Chan to leave the kitchen so he can eat in peace.
He wants to wait to be alone so he can just push around his food—a meekly trick he learned a while ago; it’s not as if anybody pays attention to him, anyway, so it’s much easier to hide—but just as Chan walks out, Jisung walks in. He doesn’t say a word, just sits at the island next to Felix and sets his journal on the marble counter.
Jisung rests his chin in his hand as he taps the end of his pencil mindlessly against the pages, and Felix stares at him. “What?” Felix finally asks skeptically.
“Hm?” Jisung hums, not looking up. “Can’t I sit here?”
“I mean. Um. Yeah?” Felix stammers, sliding into the seat next to him, the bowl of pasta sitting in front of him. Fuck, Felix can almost see the number of calories floating above it like a cruel, loud reminder. How is he supposed to fake it if Jisung is sitting right there?
Oh.
Jisung doesn’t say anything, just goes back to scribbling whatever it is in that notebook while Felix twists his fork in his food. He stabs a piece particularly aggressively before shoving it into his mouth before he can think twice. Flavors explode in his mouth. It tastes like nothing.
Felix ends up eating only half of it before his stomach turns in disgust, and he pushes it away. At the movement, Jisung glances over, eyes boring into the mostly still full plate before flitting over to give Felix a look.
Thankfully, he doesn’t mention it, and simply just watches as Felix throws the rest away before washing his dish. Always just watching.
With the shower and sink both running, providing a white noise that blocks out the world, Felix is leaned over the toilet with two fingers jammed down his throat and the memory of the food he ate fifteen minutes ago burning into his vision.
He sits back on his heels, his eyes blurry with tears and his throat burning, but he forces himself up. For a second, he sways on his feet, but he stabilizes himself and looks in the mirror. In his reflection, he sees what he’s been seeing for the past whatever years. His dead, fried, bleached blond hair brushes his shoulders, and there are deep eyebags beneath his eyes. His skin is more pale than usual, but his freckles stand out against it.
He looks miserable. He looks skinny. He looks fine.
The dizziness and exhaustion has been getting worse lately. He already knows it’s because he hasn’t been eating. It’s not as if he’s new to this—no, he’s been doing this for years; it’s become a calculated measure at this point. He doesn’t eat anything besides fruit most of the time, though if he does eat an actual meal, he usually just throws it up. At this point, he can’t even control it—he feels too sick after meals anyway, so isn’t he just relieving his pain by throwing it up, anyway?
He yawns, jaw opening in exhaustion. No matter how much he sleeps, he still goes through the day in a blur, wondering when he can fall asleep again. He practically daydreams about sleeping, though once the time actually comes, he finds himself wide awake and staring at the ceiling.
He strips his clothes off, letting them fall onto the floor one by one before standing beneath the spray of the shower, letting the hot steam fill the room and hit his bare skin. It almost quiets his thoughts.
Afterwards, he lays in his bed, his towel still around him. His room is completely dark, the blinds of his window tightly shut to keep the glow of the moon out. Beside him, his phone is dimly lit with an Ebook open, but he hasn’t read it.
He has no energy, not even enough to change into actual pajamas. Today was fine, but like most of his days, he just wants it to be over already.
Big thoughts when it’s time to go to bed, he decides as he sets his phone down. He hadn’t really been reading, anyway, more so just staring at the pages as the words merged into one and just hoping he’d make sense of it eventually.
For how little sleep he truly retains each night, it’s shocking how long it takes him to actually fall asleep. Before he knows it, it’s almost midnight, and he’s still awake. His sheets feel sweaty and hot, making him bristle in discomfort, so he swings his legs over his bed and decides that he’ll just go get water.
Quietly, he shuffles into sweatpants and a shirt before opening his door. The house is silent except for the blast of the air conditioning, and he releases a soft breath of air before going downstairs.
When he reaches the bottom step, he freezes. The TV is on, but the volume is so low it may as well be muted. It only takes Felix about five seconds to register that it’s Howl’s Moving Castle playing, and he squints his eyes to try and make out who is sitting there on the couch.
The mop of messy, black hair is enough for him to realize that it’s, of course, Jisung. Hesitantly, Felix creeps forward, then leans over the couch. Jisung hasn’t seemed to notice him yet, either so wrapped up in the movie or his own thoughts, and it’s not until Felix opens his mouth that Jisung violently flinches.
Before he can help himself, Felix snorts at the reaction, head falling forward with a smile on his lips. “Sorry,” he giggles, and Jisung’s initial fear turns into annoyance, then confusion, as he stares back.
“You scared me,” Jisung smirks, looking back at the TV. “I thought everyone was asleep.”
Felix shrugs. “I can never sleep.”
“Probably why you always look exhausted, then,” Jisung mutters quietly, almost softly enough that Felix doesn’t catch it for a moment.
“Uh…” Felix dumbly says, biting the inside of his cheek. “Is that Howl’s Moving Castle?” He asks, though he already knows the answer.
Jisung turns his head to look at him, surprise dotting at his features. His bad eye—Felix has been wondering what happened to him, but never found a moment to ask without it feeling rude and invadinig—seems to almost reflect the light of the television. His other eye, deep brown and hard, is wide. His eyes are already comically large for his face, but when they’re widened like this, he seems even more young.
“You know it?” He asks, sounding wary.
“‘Course I do. I’ve watched it a million times.” The first time Felix watched it was with his younger cousin, but, embarrassingly so, he got hooked on the plot immediately and has watched it countless times since. “It’s like my favorite movie.”
For what might be the first time, Jisung smiles, honest and true, and Felix instinctively smiles back. “Me too,” he whispers.
“Can I…” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for his self-inflicted invitation to hang in the air, and for a second, Jisung hesitates. Then, he nods and draws his knees in so Felix has a space to sit.
Felix walks around the couch and sits down, his feet planted on the floor since he doesn't think he’s reached the status to put his feet on the furniture yet. Jisung shuffles something on the cushion between them, and it’s a bowl of popcorn, practically fully eaten with just the kernels and a few real pieces left.
Reaching his hand into the bowl, Felix grabs a kernel and pops it into his mouth so he can busy himself. It takes forever to bite and chew, but really, it’s just to trick his mind that he’s actually eating something.
The familiar movie plays, and after a few moments, Felix relaxes into the couch as he watches. From beside him, Jisung’s soft breaths fill the silence, and something that feels oddly like belonging shifts in the air between them.
“Oh my God, this is precious.”
At the sound of a voice next to him, Felix slowly opens his eyes, squinting against the intruding light. The aching in his body tells him that he fell asleep in an uncomfortable position, and after a few seconds of trying to remember what happened, he realizes that he’s on the couch.
In front of him, Chan stands with his phone in hand and a bright, wide smile on his lips, face contorted with pure glee. He’s fully dressed for the day, probably going to work, with a white button up and slacks. His tie is still loose around his neck, and when he smiles, Felix, for the first time, realizes that he has dimples on either side of his mouth.
Behind Chan, the TV is still open to HBO Max’s homescreen, the movie long over. Felix tries to remember if he finished it before falling asleep, but he doesn’t think so.
Felix makes a small, unhappy noise at being woken up, and he sits up, stretching his arms over his head before glancing over. Similar to him, Jisung is fully curled into the edge of the couch, eyes shut in sleep with his lips slightly parted.
Felix blinks, still not fully awake yet, and gives Chan a look. “What time is it?” He asks, his voice rough and tired, almost too low to fully understand. His voice has gotten much lower ever since he hit puberty—a bit too low, really, but maybe he’ll outgrow it.
Chan checks his phone. “Seven.” Felix groans and falls back onto the couch. Way too early for a Saturday. He shuts his eyes again, trying to fall back asleep.
The next time he wakes up, Jisung is gone. A yawn courses through Felix as he fully gets up this time, twisting his back to hear it crack satisfyingly. He shuffles upstairs, reaching for the bathroom door, but the sound of the shower running makes him sigh in disappointment. He turns back to his own room and reaches for his phone, wincing at the low battery percentage since he didn’t charge it before sleeping.
Now, it’s around ten. Usually, on the weekends, he’s awake by nine, but oh well. He waits on the edge of the bed until he hears the shower turn off, and when he steps out of his room, Jisung is standing outside the bathroom with wet hair sticking to his temple and his skin red from the heat.
He barely spares Felix a glance as he walks away, but he calls out, “Minho says we’re going out for breakfast.” Before Felix can respond, Jisung shuts the door to his room, and the rejection settles deep in Felix’s stomach; they had just hung out last night, and now Jisung is acting as if he doesn’t exist. Great. Just when Felix thought they were getting somewhere.
Felix doesn’t know why it’s so important to him that he and Jisung become friends, or at least civil, but he just doesn’t think he knows how to exist in a place where there’s just another boy exactly like him who is his age yet wants nothing to do with him.
While Felix pushes around a small bowl of fruit with a fork, he can feel Minho staring at him. “Not hungry?”
“Not really a breakfast person.” Not really a food person.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Minho smiles awkwardly. Jisung is sitting next to Minho, and Felix can feel him staring at him; Felix refuses to look back up. “So, your guys’ birthdays are coming up.”
At that, both of them pick their heads up in confusion. Felix speaks first, pointing at Jisung. “Wait, when’s your birthday?”
“September fourteenth.”
“No way! Mine’s the fifteenth.”
“Woah,” Jisung chuckles, shaking his head and taking another bite of his waffle. “We’re almost twins.”
“What do you guys want to do?” Minho asks, and both boys stare at each other as if trying to read the other’s mind.
“Anything’s fine,” Felix says just as Jisung answers, “Nothing.”
At their antics, Minho laughs. “Well, come up with something. Chan will cry if we don’t celebrate either of your birthdays.”
“We can stay home,” Jisung suggests, raising his eyebrows.
“Or we can go out,” Felix counteracts.
“Or we can get our permits.”
Felix shakes his head dismissively. “I haven’t studied yet.”
“Oh. Me neither,” Jisung admits with a small smile. “We can go to dinner.”
“Or…” Felix quickly says—the absolute last thing he wants to do is go to dinner. He thinks for a moment before awkwardly croaking out, “Karaoke?”
Surprisingly, Jisung pauses like he’s considering the idea. Something flashes over his eyes, and, even more shockingly, he nods. “Okay, then. Karaoke, so I can outshine you on stage.”
“Excuse you, but I’m a fantastic singer,” Felix scoffs in mock offense. “You just haven’t heard me yet.”
Jisung snickers, "I've heard you singing Hamilton.”
“And I make a fantastic Eliza Schuyler?” Felix repeats, putting his fork down and hoping his ears aren’t glowing red. Minho is watching both of them with amusement, turning his head back and forth between them to watch the two of them argue. “Just you wait. I’ll sing much better than you will.”
“I think you both sang amazingly—” Jisung and Felix both groan in frustration at Chan’s answer, slumping into the booth tiredly. “What? I can’t choose!” Chan laughs, and Minho smirks before taking a sip of his drink. Jisung reaches out to try it, and Chan smacks his hand away. “No alcohol for you.”
“Oh, c’mon. I’m old enough,” Jisung whines.
Chan furrows his eyebrows. “What? You’re fifteen. No.” In the corner of Felix’s eye, he can see Minho discreetly pushing his own drink towards Jisung playfully. When Chan notices, his head snaps up. “Minho,” he croaks, sounding a bit betrayed.
“I’m joking,” Minho grins, taking it back from Jisung’s grasp, who rolls his eyes. “Also,” he adds, and he pauses for dramatic effect while both boys sit up inquiringly. “Felix sang better.”
“I knew it!” Felix immediately says, maybe too enthusiastically, and he points at Jisung whose mouth is hung open in shock. “I told you!”
“He’s only saying that because it’s your birthday!” Jisung accuses, but a smile quickly overtakes his face as he dips another chip into the cheese in the middle of the table. The karaoke place is pretty packed, and currently, there’s two college aged girls—they’re probably drunk—singing some old Katy Perry song terribly.
The lights are low, lit by some LED strips glowing a bright purple. They’re sitting in a small booth in the corner, just in view of the stage but also hidden enough for them to have enough room to breathe. Felix and Jisung both sang one song separately, but they’d also done a duet since Jisung wanted to sing “Rewrite the Stars”—Felix didn’t even know he was a fan of The Greatest Showman, but who isn’t?
They’ve been here for almost two hours at this point, and honestly, Felix can’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun, but he’s starting to get tired. His throat hurts from singing so much and with so much effort. Jisung, however, looks alive, and his smile looks real.
Felix hadn’t expected Jisung to be such a good singer, but in more ways than one, Jisung looked his absolute happiest whilst singing, so that must mean something.
Now, though, all that fire from earlier is gone, and Jisung slumps with his head against the table. “I’m tired,” he complains against the wood.
Chan looks at all of them. “You guys ready to go?” He asks, and they all nod before getting up. “We can stop for ice cream since we didn’t get you guys a cake.”
Jisung perks up childishly, like a dog hearing its favorite word. “Yes,” he immediately says, and Chan raises his eyebrows. Jisung sighs loudly before reluctantly saying, “Please?”
Simultaneously, both Chan and Minho turn their heads to look at Felix curiously. “Your birthday,” Minho says. “Your call.”
“Um,” Felix hesitates. Would it be weird if he agreed then didn’t get anything? But, if he refuses, that’d be equally as suspicious—and would also disappoint Jisung. He plasters a sickly, sweet, fake smile on his face, showing his teeth. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.”
The next three months are, surprisingly, okay. It’s winter now, but, disappointingly, there’s no snow outside. Felix isn’t particularly appreciative of winter time, and he quite despises the cold, but snow is always something to look forward to.
It’s also not that cold outside at all. It’s strange. It feels like fall during the winter. Children play outside with only long sleeves instead of a coat. The air is all dull, and the world is so gray.
Slowly, Felix began to get more and more comfortable in this placement. Ever since their birthdays, Jisung has been around more—not so much, and Felix doesn’t think they’re that close of friends—but just enough to warrant some sort of understanding between the two boys.
Despite it being December, the four of them are at a park. Felix and Jisung are both laying on a blanket, the top of Jisung’s head pressed firmly against Felix’s thigh. Felix has his notebook balanced on one leg, tapping the end of his pencil against the pages in thought; he’s trying to get past the inciting incident of the story he’s been thinking about for a while, but he’s horrible at getting past the exciting moments.
It’s not a romance book. It’s a mystery and one of the characters had just died, and yet, Felix is stuck. He knows exactly what he wants to do—the mystery and fallout and shock is all planned out, well, at least, it is in his head—but he can’t get past a certain moment without his brain completely blanking.
Jisung has a book over his face, the occasional turning of the pages providing a background noise. They’re sitting in comfortable, shared silence while Chan and Minho cook barbeque on one of the provided grills at the park.
In the corner of his eye, Felix can see Jisung slightly tilt his book so he has a view of Felix’s face. “Why the long face?” Jisung asks, sounding completely disinterested.
“Writer’s block.”
“Ha,” Jisung smirks unhelpfully, and Felix rolls his eyes. “Just skip ahead and write the exciting part.”
Felix pauses and gives Jisung a strange look. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have the characters completely set up yet. I can’t write the future without knowing the past.”
Jisung smiles. “That’s deep. You should use that quote.” Felix grumbles beneath his breath and promptly flicks Jisung’s forehead, making him flinch and sputter. “Ow!”
“Felix, don’t hit Jisung,” Minho says without looking up from his phone.
“He started it,” Felix accuses, pointing a finger at him.
Still, Minho doesn’t glance over. “Jisung, leave Felix alone.”
Both boys sigh but listen, falling back into silence. It’s not until Chan steps away to take a phone call and when Minho claims he has to use the bathroom that they speak again. It’s Felix who starts it. “So, what’s their deal?”
“What’s whose deal?” Jisung asks, and Felix sighs loudly before pushing Jisung’s book away from his face.
“Minho and Chan,” Felix clarifies impatiently.
“Oh. They’re just friends.”
Felix scrunches his face up, not believing him one bit. “They’re just friends?”
“Sure. I asked once and Chan said so. Best friends since college or something, I don’t know, and I don’t really care.” He picks his book back up and flips through the pages to find where he left off.
“They’d be cute together,” Felix continues, and Jisung just tiredly hums in acknowledgement. “We should set them up.” The last comment gets a snort out of Jisung, and Felix frowns in offense. “I’m serious.”
“I know, that’s why it’s funny,” Jisung giggles, finally rolling over onto his stomach to look at Felix seriously. “I think they’re too old at this point to start dating.”
“They’re only forty.”
“That’s what I said. Anyway, if they’ve gone this long without dating, then they’re probably just platonic; it’d be weird if we meddled.”
“But—” Chan walks back over, and so Felix clamps his mouth shut, but still, the thought lives in his mind. They would be a good couple—they surely act as one, so why aren’t they dating? Maybe they just need… a nudge.
It’s two months after that when Minho drops a bomb onto them. Unlike what Felix hoped—and has been trying to iniate—it is not that they are now getting married. No. It’s when Jisung and Felix are both laying on the living room floor, glueing pieces of paper meticulously onto a big poster board for their biology project that Minho awkwardly walks into the room, a nervous step to his stride.
“We have to tell you guys something,” Minho says, and both boys pause their glueing to look up. Dori is wrapped around Minho’s ankles, purring like a motorboat despite his owner’s clear distress. “We’re getting an emergency placement,” he lays out quickly, not leaving any room for comments.
“What?” Jisung demands, sitting up.
“They didn’t give us much information…” As he continues, Felix tenses up at the thought of a new guy around here. It took enough time for Felix and Jisung to start tolerating each other, and now Felix has to do it all over again? “He’s supposed to be here in… what? Two hours?”
“Where’s he gonna sleep?” Jisung asks, narrowing his eyes. “Do we have to share a room now?”
“Oh, fuck, I didn’t even think about that—” Minho groans, pressing the heels of his palm over his eyes. “Okay. Um. No. You won’t have to share a room. I… will just sleep in Chan’s room until we can figure it out.”
Felix immediately gives Jisung a look at that last comment, but Jisung doesn’t look back. His eyes are still narrowed in skepticism and are in a far away place, and Felix just awkwardly nibbles on his bottom lip.
“One of you come help me move my stuff,” Minho sighs, snapping his fingers, and Felix scrambles up before following him upstairs. Felix has actually never been in Minho’s room before, but it’s not much—the most decoration is just the shelves filled with trinkets that Minho instantly grabs and shoves into Felix’s hands.
As Felix rearranges his grip over the items, Minho fixes him a look. “What’s wrong?” He asks, drumming his fingers impatiently over his thigh as he stares at his shelf before grabbing something else. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re going to be weird about the placement… Jisung is going to freak out already, I know it.”
The comment hits him more than he’d like to admit. “No. Uh. I don’t really care about the placement,” Felix says, but he trails off, voice falling flat. Now, if he really did have any feelings about it, he can’t talk about them anymore—of course, he’s expected to be the easy one. For some reason, that makes him feel strange, even though he should be used to it at this point.
Minho furrows his eyebrows and looks at Felix strangely. “Alright, then,” Minho chuckles, gesturing for Felix to follow him into Chan’s room. “Just put it on the bed, I’ll sort it out later.” He takes out his phone and opens Chan’s location before groaning. “Ah, shit, why hasn’t he left yet?”
Then, he calls him, tapping his foot impatiently with his phone against his ear. When Chan supposedly picks up, Minho sounds way too pissed off for Felix to not feel awkward standing here. “Why the hell haven’t you left work yet? Get home!” He snaps, but when Felix tries to turn and walk away, Minho calls out, “No, stay here, I still need your help.”
Unfortunately, Felix is subjected to having to listen to Minho yell at Chan over the phone, and once the call finally ends, Minho flashes Felix a smile that makes him laugh with discomfort. Minho puts his hands together as he looks at Felix. “Felix. I need you to go downstairs and make some of your brownies, okay?”
“Uh—” Felix stammers. “Alright?”
“I’m serious. Your brownies are way too good and we have an incentive so this kid doesn’t hate us on the spot. And go tell Jisung to help you, or something.”
Felix just nods and turns on his heel, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding once he was out of Minho’s presence. He goes downstairs and tells Jisung to come help, but, as expected, Felix is doing most of the work.
“It’s so annoying,” Jisung grumbles, cracking an egg into the bowl. “I don’t want another person in this house. We’re getting too full.”
“He needs a home,” Felix reminds him as he mixes. “Don’t be selfish.”
“I’m not being selfish,” Jisung snaps. “But it’s like every damn time I’m starting to get used to something, they throw a whole other curveball at me.”
Felix gives him a sad look. “You’re right. I’m sorry for calling you selfish.” At the apology, Jisung pauses and looks at him with big eyes, like he hadn’t been expecting that. “Let’s just finish these brownies so we can go back to our project,” Felix deflects, and Jisung sharply nods before going to do the dishes.
Just as they’re sitting in Felix’s room silently, the sound of the doorbell finally arrives, and they both jolt before giving each other a skeptical look. “Let’s go see him,” Jisung whispers, as if anyone can hear them, before pushing himself up.
Felix nods and follows behind him, and they’re both standing in the hallway as Jisung peers ahead. No. This is ridiculous—they shouldn’t be acting afraid of this guy, after all, he’s just another kid, right?
So, Felix plasters a smile and goes past Jisung to greet him. He must be nervous enough, and so the least Felix can do is be welcoming. The boy is hidden by Chan’s frame, but once he finally steps inside, his eyes seem to meet Felix’s instinctively and naturally.
At the sight of him, Felix’s entire body tenses up, as does the boy’s. Oh.
“Hyunjin?” Felix blurts out.
“Felix?”
Looking between the two, Chan’s eyes light up with both glee and surprise. “You guys know each other?”
“Yeah,” Felix spits out, his tone unusually sharp. Minho and Chan both fall silent, and Hyunjin readjusts his grip on his bag while Felix’s once wide-eyed, curious, welcoming stare now turns dead the more he stares at him. “We do.”